by H K Christie
Willow, Raquel, and I had gotten to know each other too. We had a lot in common other than that Raquel grew up rich and privileged. If we'd met under different circumstances, I would've assumed she was a stuck-up witch. But she wasn't. She was kind and tough. Willow was sweet and loving. It was almost like their energies were perfectly complementary. One with more feminine energy and the other with a more masculine energy. I'd grown to like both of them quite a bit. I didn't think I could've asked for better co-captives. I wasn't sure if that was a word, but it was what we were. We were in it together.
Over the year, we'd all been patient. We had done what he ordered us to do in order to survive. Despite the efforts, we were still chained at the ankles and weren't allowed to leave the barn without him.
I glanced out the window and knew it was almost time for his afternoon visit. A chill ran down my body as he unlocked the barn door. The door opened, and he entered with a decorated cake in his hands.
We had all sat perched on our cots with the required smiles on our faces. He'd explained that he liked to see his little wives wearing smiles and that frowns made him so sad he'd turn angry. He was revolting.
Why had he brought a cake? He stepped in, holding it in front of him with a creepy grin on his face. He stepped back through the barn, walking past our cots and toward the dining table. He set the cake down on the table and then returned to our beds. "Well, ladies, I thought it was about time for a celebration."
We dared not look at one another, not when the master was around. "It's been exactly one year since Layla joined our family. The four of us have been a family for one year. Isn't that wonderful?"
"Yes," I said, trying to feign enthusiasm. Willow and Raquel did the same. We didn't want to disappoint the master for fear of angering him.
Normally, when it was time to eat the food, he'd unhook our chains and then we’d head over to the table where he'd re-chain us to the TV console that he had bolted to the ground. It was the same each night. At dinnertime, we sat at the table and ate. Then we sat on the sofa. We'd talk as if we were a regular family except he was cagey as to the details of his daily life and activities outside of the barn. It was disturbing, but at least it was a slight change of scenery. He never let us watch TV. I didn't even know if it worked.
"Everyone up. It's time for cake."
As instructed, we all lifted off our beds and stood waiting for him to unchain us. He walked over to Raquel first and undid the lock on her ankle chains. He grinned at her. "Raquel, you may have the first seat at the table since you're my first wife."
My mouth dropped open, not being able to contain my shock as he let her walk freely to the back of the barn without her chain. Raquel hesitated at first, but then hurried back to the table, sitting obediently behind the round cake trimmed with pink frosting.
With a smile still plastered on my face, I waited to see if he would let us all off the chain. If he did, our plan would be progressing. Our patience was paying off. We would be one step closer to escaping. And then my heart sank.
A year. I had been there a year. And the best thing we could celebrate was the fact that we could walk within our prison without a chain. Why hadn't anyone come looking for us? Why hadn't anyone found us?
I watched in amazement as he unlocked Willow's chains and let her free to head back to the dining table. I composed myself as he approached me. He smiled. "Last, but certainly not least, Layla, it's time for us to celebrate." He knelt down and unlocked the lock and removed my chain. A less restrained person would have kicked him in the face and gauged his eyes out. That person might not have seen the butt of the gun sticking out of the back of his jeans. No, we wouldn't attack him, not when he was armed. He stood back up. "There you go. Now join the others."
I smiled and nodded and hurried back to the table. He served us cake as he asked about our day. Like we had anything interesting going on? We had been sitting in the barn with each other like every other day. "Another peaceful day in the barn," Raquel said.
That was one way of putting it.
"I think you could probably use some sunshine, maybe even some exercise."
None of us dared to say anything. What was he getting at?
He strolled over to the television and turned it on. Look at that. It worked. He then pressed a button on the DVD player. All this time there was a DVD in the DVD player and the television worked?
"A treat. This is one of the better workout videos Jane Fonda created. She is a workout legend," he said with enthusiasm.
Here I'd thought he was going to let us outside. I mean, even prisoners got yard time. If we continued to gain his trust, maybe he would let us outside. When Raquel discussed the long game, I don't think any of us realized how long that would really be.
I took a bite of the white cake with buttercream frosting, and I let out a quiet moan. It was like heaven. It was funny to think before I was a captive how I'd never touch sweets unless I was going to run for two hours or planned to purge. It was the first bite of refined sugar I had consumed in over a year. Normally, our meals consisted of fruit, raw vegetables, and sandwiches. He told us to finish up and join him on the sofa. I refrained from licking the plate after I scraped up the last morsel and walked over to the couch.
We sat around the sofa and asked him how he was doing—the way we had been instructed to do. "Well, you know how it is. Well, maybe you don't. It feels great to have worked a full day and then getting to coming home to you ladies. I'd say my day was all right." He smiled.
Does that mean he left for the day? I had assumed he had worked from home. I glanced at Raquel. She eyed me right back. We had assumed he never left the farm.
He continued rattling on about his day and how important he was at his job. Although, I couldn’t quite figure out what it was he did for a living. It sounded like something to do with computers. I wondered what had led him to a place in life where he abducted women and pretended they were his family. Was he a psychopath? He had to be. He certainly wasn't a normal person.
When the evening was over, he stood up. We remained on the sofa for further instruction. "We had such a lovely evening. I'm sure you've noticed that I've removed your chains. I'd like to think I could trust you to leave them off. Can I trust you?"
My heart raced. "Yes," I said with too much enthusiasm. I could've kicked myself for not playing it more cool.
Willow responded positively as well, followed by Raquel. "You don't have to worry. You are our master. We aren't going anywhere."
He smirked. "That's wonderful to hear, ladies, because I'd hate to have to remove your light. You're so beautiful. I would really hate for anything to happen to you." And without another word, he exited the barn. I heard the locks engage. I guessed Willow and Raquel had as well. The three of us stared at one another. We waited another moment to be certain he was nowhere near the barn. "It's working," I said.
"Yes, now is the time to be the most careful. This is a test and he'll be on high alert. We need to continue building his trust, so as soon as he lets his guard down, we can make a run for it."
"I agree."
"Anyone want to do a Jane Fonda workout?" Willow asked.
"I'm down," I said with a shrug.
Raquel nodded. "Hey, it'll be the first time since I got here I've had any proper exercise, other than doing jumping jacks or walking in place. It's like it's Christmas," she said with a chuckle before climbing off the couch and pressing the play button on the DVD player.
Willow and I jumped off the couch and the three of us began our workout with Jane Fonda.
25
Martina
Hirsch and I leaned against the dining room wall as Jordan Day paced the length of his living and dining rooms. He must be wondering if he was going to jail or if his partner or buddy or associate, or whoever had taken the women, might come for him next. What would I do if I were in Jordan's shoes? Well, I wouldn't be in his shoes, but if I was, I think I'd want to strike a deal. The idea of being alive in poli
ce custody seemed better than waiting around my house, wondering if there was a hit out on me.
From the moment he got off the phone with his lawyer, Jordan had refused to say another word to either Hirsch or me. It was frustrating, but it was to be expected.
I hadn't found anything out of the ordinary when I searched his house. Chances were, that any connection he'd had to the missing women he'd gotten rid of long ago. Jordan didn't seem like a stupid man, but he made some really stupid choices, so of course he had ditched any evidence.
I walked over to the credenza in his living room and studied the photographs neatly displayed in the frames. "Wow, you've met a lot of celebrities."
All I got was an, "uh-huh."
I needed more than that. "I don't know this one." I lifted the photograph and showed him. He shook his head, and the sweat from his brow trickled down his temples. He was definitely feeling the rising temperature over there in the hot seat.
"Is she an actress? You two look pretty cozy. Is she your girlfriend?"
He stopped pacing.
Interesting. He has a girlfriend. Good to know. "Where is she now?"
"She doesn't live here."
"She's awfully pretty with her blond hair and blue eyes. You don't worry that he'll come after her?" After all, she fit the exact description of the other missing women, albeit a tad older.
His eyes widened. It was clear he hadn't contemplated the fact that he wasn't the only one who may be in danger. Those he cared about were as well. "She's definitely his type, don't you think?"
The color had drained from his face. "I hadn't thought of that."
"You know, like I mentioned before, I work for a security and private investigations firm—I'm just on contract with the sheriff's department. At my firm, we offer security services to people in danger. We might be able to help you out and get some folks to protect you and your girlfriend."
"What kind of security?"
"In the past, we've provided security for visiting dignitaries, celebrities, and ordinary people wanting to leave abusive situations. On the flip side, we also find people. People the police can't find. Maybe it's something for you to consider. I know I would if I were in your position, that is, if you care about your life and the life of your girlfriend."
"I do," he said with defeat in his voice.
Perfect. He was right where we needed him to be. He shook his head. "I never thought this would get back to me. I thought this was done, but I fear it's not."
I glanced across the room at Hirsch and nodded to get him to come closer.
"We can help you, Jordan, before it's too late. This person already killed your brother."
"You don't think it was an accident?"
"No, I don't and I think he'll come for you next."
"What do you charge for security?"
"I can call my boss and ask him what kind of rate he'd give you. If you cooperate with us, he'd probably agree to a discount. Normally, we charge top dollar, but that's only because we're the best. We've had team members lose their own life protecting a client. The client didn't have a scratch on her."
Unfortunately, the story was true. It was how I had become a widow.
Jordan glanced across at Detective Hirsch and then back at me. "Do you really think he'd go after her?"
"He might," I said. I didn't know if she was in danger, but it was a possibility.
A knock on the door redirected our attention. "Why don't you have Detective Hirsch answer the door for you."
Hirsch nodded.
"How well do you know your lawyer?"
"Not that well. My company has him on retainer."
The lawyer walked briskly toward Jordan, shaking his hand aggressively before patting him on the back of the shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll get you through this."
"Thank you for coming."
"Are you under arrest?" He peered over at Detective Hirsch.
Hirsch said, "Not yet. He will be soon. I'm working with local law enforcement, and they're on their way with a warrant for his arrest, unless he cooperates. This is a pretty big case."
"Detective Hirsch, what are you planning to charge my client with?"
"There are six missing young women from the Bay Area, all of which were clients of Jordan's. We believe that your client, Jordan Day, handed them off to whoever took them. Since we aren't sure of the girls’ fates, we'll start by charging him with six counts of accessory to kidnapping."
"Jordan, come with me," his lawyer demanded.
The lawyer and Jordan disappeared into one of the bedrooms. I called out to them. "I'd stay away from the windows." One, it was good advice and two, maybe it induced extra fear into him and convinced him to cooperate with us. They didn't respond to my suggestion. "You don't think they're trying to leave, do you?"
"I wouldn't think his lawyer would advise his client to escape his own house and evade arrest. Plus, there aren't any exits from the back bedrooms. The only exits are the front and back doors."
"He could climb through a window."
Hirsch shrugged and headed back to where the lawyer and Jordan were. He stopped at the entrance to the back bedroom. I watched as he waved his hand toward the room. "I'm just making sure nobody was trying to climb out a window. Like Martina suggested, you may want to stay away from the windows."
"There's no need for dramatics, Detective," the lawyer said.
"Suit yourself," Hirsch said, before walking back toward me. He shook his head. "It's frustrating being this close to someone who has the answers but isn't talking."
"Maybe he doesn't have all the answers. Maybe he doesn't even know the location of where the girls were being held or where their final destination was intended to be."
Hirsch said, "Yeah, but he said he was friends with the guy."
"True, but you know what's been bothering me?"
"Dare I ask?"
I smirked. "Why take out Jonathan, who may have not known anything about it? It was Jordan who had contact with the so-called photographer. Why take out Jonathan first?"
"Maybe Jonathan knew more than he told his boyfriend."
"True, but it seems like Jordan would've been the smarter choice to take out first. I mean, theoretically, if I were a kidnapping monster. Jordan could identify the person who took the women."
"Proximity? Maybe the perp is still in the Bay Area and so was Jonathan?"
"Maybe."
Jordan and his lawyer emerged from the back bedroom, looking smug. About to launch into a lecture, I caught sight of a red dot on Jordan's chest and screamed, "get down," before tackling Jordan to the ground. Upon cease fire, I glanced down at him. Blood was quickly spreading across his white, button-down shirt. I pressed my palm on the wound and yelled, "Get me a towel and call 9-1-1!" I continued to press my weight against the bullet hole as I prayed Jordan wouldn't die. Not because I cared about him—I didn't give a hoot about this piece of garbage—but because I needed to locate those women, and he was the key to finding them.
26
Detective Hirsch
I hit the ground after the loud crack. From the floor, I looked over and saw Martina on top of Jordan. His lawyer in his expensive suit lay face down. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed 9-1-1. We couldn't let this piece of scum die.
"Nine one one, what is your emergency?"
"This is Detective Hirsch from the CoCo County Sheriff's Department. I'm at the address of seven twenty-four Bangle Drive in Los Angeles, California. We have at least one gunshot victim. He's bleeding out." I lowered the phone. "Is anybody else hurt?"
His lawyer said, "I'm fine."
"Martina?"
"I'm fine. It's just Jordan. It's bad."
"Just one person shot. Please bring an ambulance as soon as possible. The shooter's whereabouts are unknown."
I slowly climbed to my knees and glanced around. "The shot came through the window from the backyard. I'm going to pursue the suspect on foot." I hung up and ran out the back door, hoping to
get a glimpse of the gunman.
The backyard was empty, but the side gate was open. I continued running down the street and spotted a man approximately six feet tall, wearing dark pants and a black hoodie jump into a dark sedan. I increased my pace to a sprint to get a license plate number. It was no use. He was gone.
I ran back to the house and reentered the backyard, searching for any evidence the shooter had been there. A shell casing, a cigarette butt or anything, really. But at first glance, I didn't see anything. The Crime Scene Unit should arrive any minute. I'd let them go through the area with a fine-toothed comb. Dang. It was broad daylight. Somebody had to have seen something.
I hurried back into the house. "How's he doing?"
Martina glanced over her shoulder. "He's losing a lot of blood. I'm trying to stop it, but he'll likely need to go into surgery."
"The shooter is gone," I said before I ran into the bathroom and pulled the towel from the rack and handed it to Martina. "Here, use this."
She replaced the blood-soaked towel with the fresh one. The wound in his chest was bad. The sound of sirens was growing closer. Hopefully, they would be able to save Jordan. He was our best witness and without his cooperation, we were going to have a heck of hard time finding those women.
After the ambulance and a police escort took Jordan away, I stayed behind with Martina to explain to the local PD what had just happened at Jordan Day's home.
Martina's entire top half was covered in blood, as well as the knee area of her black trousers. The detective in charge, Detective Black, said, "Looks like you may have saved his life."
